


Time is not of the essence

by hypatheticallyspeaking



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon character deaths, Canon parallels, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatheticallyspeaking/pseuds/hypatheticallyspeaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin doesn't need anyone to tell her that she needs pay attention to the clock ticking down on her wrist. She's content with her current life, thank you very much. Besides, she's got enough to worry about. She's got her routine down like clockwork, and nothing is going to change that.<br/>Or so she thinks.</p><p>Based on "If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time is not of the essence

“How many days do you have left?” That was one of her patients.

 

“Aren’t you going to meet your soul mate soon?” the little girl in a neighboring apartment inquired.

 

“Clarke, why do you cover your wrist? Don’t you care?” Her supervisor asked curiously.

 

God, next time someone asked her… Clarke didn’t want to finish her thought. She just returned from a 36-hour shift at Ark Memorial hospital, and she did _not_ want to deal with anyone. Honestly, she would probably bite the head off of the next person who bothered her. After parking her older-than-dust car in front of her apartment, she slumped against the seat, resting her forehead on the window.

 

So what if she was turning twenty five? She was a successful surgeon—the _most_ successful surgeon and EMT at Ark (second only to her mother who had recently transferred to a supervisory position). She did not need her soul mate. At the very least, her countdown would be silent as it timed out—she had broken the sound function when she sprained her wrist as a child. By the time she considered fixing the timer, the damage had been irreparable. Besides, she had bigger problems to focus on.

 

There was a familiar motorcycle in the neighboring parking spot. She hadn’t seen the black bike in months. Turning off the car’s engine, Clarke dragged herself from the vehicle. Her bag was heavy, like a leaden weight on her shoulder that slowed her already heavy steps as she walked towards apartment number 319. The door opened before Clarke could even take her keys out of her pocket.

 

“Clarke!” Octavia squealed, lunging at the blonde and enveloping her in a hug. “You wouldn’t believe it!”

 

“Let me breathe, O,” Clarke groaned as she squirmed out of her roommate’s grip. The blonde pushed past Octavia and into the three-room apartment. She dropped her keys on a table and her beat-up canvas bag on the floor.

 

Octavia bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, grinning excitedly. Before Clarke could inquire about the source of her joy, Octavia exclaimed, “I found him!”

 

Great. She knew that Octavia’s timer was going to go off, but she hadn’t imagined the feeling that she was losing her closest friend. “What’s he like?” Her tone was surprisingly light.

 

“He’s really nice,” the twenty-four-year-old gushed, “Serious at times, but sweet to me. I have a feeling that my brother will hate him.”

 

Oh yes, the elusive brother and no-longer-legal guardian. Clarke pursed her lips before responding, “Well, he can’t argue with it if your timers said so, right?”

 

“That’s the thing. He doesn’t believe in timers. He thinks they’re stupid. Ever since his partially broke when he was younger.” The girl shrugged—broken timers weren’t exactly common, but not unheard of either. “And what about you-”

 

“No. I just don’t see the point.” Clarke’s voice was clipped, razor sharp. It was a defense mechanism she had been using for a while.

 

Secretly it was because she thought she loved her former boyfriend, who had timed out with an on-again-off-again girlfriend. And everything had gone downhill from there for the past three years. Octavia had been her sole confidante and the only person who knew. Everyone else just thought that she and Finn broke up.

 

And with her timer ticking down its last days, Clarke made a point to never look at it again.

 

“-ke. Clarke?” Octavia waved her hand in front of her face. “You okay? I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

 

“Just… I’m fine. I promise.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes, but Octavia didn’t press her. “I just need some sleep. Thirty-six hours and a lack of sleep doesn’t make me the best conversationalist.”

 

The brunette nodded, a faint grin on her face. “I’ll probably be in and out of the apartment for most of the week. I’m going to meet up with my brother… hopefully he’ll take it easier if I’ve been around him for a few days. Probably going to stop by Jasper and Monty’s too.”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke replied, although she had already stopped listening to the conversation. “I’m going to sleep now. Talk to you whene-” she yawned, “whenever you need, O.”

 

* * *

 

It was actually a few days until the roommates were able to talk to each other again.

 

“How did your brother take it?”

 

“Well, he’s not going to murder Lincoln.” Octavia slumped onto the couch.

 

“That’s good… you haven’t introduced them, have you?”

 

“No.” She paused for a second before adding, “You know I love you, Clarke—”

 

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, _no._ ”

 

“I didn’t even ask you for anything!”

 

“You will.” In three… two… one…

 

“Could I invite Lincoln and Bellamy here? That way you can maybe help me? Please?”

 

Octavia was magic or something. Somehow she always was able to manipulate her friends into doing what she asked. Or maybe it was just Clarke.

 

* * *

 

“Hello?” the person at the door knocked again.

 

Clarke cursed under her breath; she had been cooking dinner for everyone (hopefully they weren’t vegetarians) and she was at a crucial step. Moving the pan to a cool burner, the girl crossed the living room of her apartment and opened the door.

 

“Oh, hi,” Clarke greeted, waving with the hand that still held a spatula. “You must be Octavia’s brother.” She turned around and returned to the kitchen. A quick glance over her shoulder caused her to smile—Bellamy hadn’t moved from the doorway he seemed confused. “You’re allowed in. Normally O would just barge in. Make yourself at home… but take off your shoes.”

 

“Okay, princess,” he replied with a smirk.

 

The food was still salvageable, thank goodness, and she was able to finish their dinner. She covered the chicken and rice before leaving the kitchen to talk to her houseguest. He was lounging on her couch like he owned the place. But then again, she _did_ say to make himself at home…

 

“So this is where Octavia spends the rest of her time.”

 

“She does _live_ here.”

 

Before Bellamy had a chance to respond, the front door opened. “Clarke? Where are you?”

 

“Here, Octavia.”

 

She walked through the hall and into the living room. Behind her was a tall and built man—Lincoln, Clarke realized. He seemed more serious than Octavia described, but whenever the man spared a glance at the feisty brunette, his face softened. Octavia would just smile back at him whenever he said something, soaking in everything the man had to say. Despite all her dislike for the idea of soulmates, Clarke silently admitted to herself that they made a great pair.

 

Dinner went surprisingly smoothly. Octavia was the center of attention, reliving the moment when she and Lincoln first met. Clarke faded in and out of the conversation, her mind wandering as she watched the dynamic of the Blake siblings’ relationship.

 

“You know, I never thought I’d met my soulmate,” the girl continued, sparing a loving glance at Lincoln, “Because I got into a motorcycle accident.”

 

Bellamy’s face begrudging appearance morphed into one of anger. “O could have _died_!” He directed his fury at the man who sat across from him at the table.

 

“Yeah, well I _didn’t,_ ” she snapped back, leaning forward in her seat.

 

That shut him up.

 

Clarke watched with amusement as her roommate continued spinning her tale, watching the way Lincoln would add in an occasional comment in a low voice and Octavia laughing and altering what he said to fit into the eloquent drama queen’s story.

 

As they finished up their dinner and said their goodbyes, Clarke finally spoke. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet both of you. It’s good to see that Tavia’s got such great people looking after her.”

 

“Me too.”

 

If she hadn’t seen Bellamy’s lips move, Clarke would have passed it off as her imagination.

 

Octavia took that as a cue to drag everyone together for a gigantic group hug.

 

Okay, so _maybe_ this wasn’t as bad as she imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope the formatting doesn't screw up on this one (fingers crossed). Any kudos or comments are welcomed. Highly welcomed. Also, I didn't have a beta, so if you see anything wrong, feel free to let me know.


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